


the fade of old to new

by beespiesandplaid



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 02:43:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7081690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beespiesandplaid/pseuds/beespiesandplaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you hope for, Parrish?” Ronan asks. That’s what people do on dates. They talk, get to know one another. Adam doesn’t know the specifics of Ronan Lynch, at least not many of them, but he knows the soul of him, the raw feel of his energy and the rhythm of his heart, the sharp edges of his humour and pain, and the softness of his affection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the fade of old to new

**Author's Note:**

> written for an anonymous prompt on tumblr (which took me forever to fill) If you like it, let me know what you think. Also, please feel free to leave prompts on my tumblr - more-words-than-time.tumblr.com 
> 
> Enjoy :)

Adam starts at the knock on his door, shoving aside latin homework and scrambling to get his jacket. Ronan is stood outside, hands in pockets, all nervous smiles and shrugs.   
“Hey,” Adam says.   
“Hey,” Ronan replies. His lips twitch. The frequency of his rare smiles when they are alone still amazes Adam – the fact that he, without even speaking, can tug the sharp corners of Ronan into something soft and awkward, seems nothing short of fanciful.   
“Are you ready?” Adam asks, realizing the idiocy of the question when he looks down at his own bare feet. Ronan knocked on his door, not the other way around.   
“Yes,” Ronan says. Silence falls. Adam doesn’t know how to break it, doesn’t know how to speak around the buzzing in his chest.   
Ronan doesn’t make him nervous, not really. Excited, yes, exhilarated, definitely, but not so much self-conscious. Hyperaware, but not ashamed. Adam had spent years of his life believing that everyone judged him for his poverty, but he realized that he’d misjudged Ronan in that. What could a boy who creates matter from his dreams care for money?   
It shouldn’t be as surprising as it is that Ronan fell for him. For as long as Adam can remember, he’s been living in his dreams.   
They walk through st Agnes, rubber soled shoes scuffing on the stone floor, footsteps quiet ghosts adding to the history of the church. Adam wonders if his and Ronan’s murmurs and kisses are the first the church has held. He hopes so.   
Nino’s is busy as always, the smell of bread and garlic and grease filling the hot air, the laughter and shouts and curses of life tumbling over one another. Blue is serving. She spots them and grins, heading over. Adam takes a step further away from Ronan, almost unconscious.   
It’s hard to be anything but Aglionby boys in this place.   
Henrietta is beautiful, in a dusty, faded, outdated kind of way. But it’s not known for it’s romantic hotspots. There is Nino’s, and there are a couple of bars, populated largely by red faced men with the kind of look in their eyes that Adam cringes away from. There are a few restaurants, but Ronan knows he won’t let him pay.   
Adam sits, and Ronan slides into the booth opposite him. Normally he sits beside him, when everyone is here. It doesn’t feel right, looking at him instead of feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. They wait for Blue to take their order, and it’s the oddest sensation – as familiar as your reflection, yet twisted slightly. Like when you are at home in your dream, only home is not your house - it’s the convenience store at the end of the road, and you don’t think to question it.   
It’s not that dating Ronan is wrong. Just that it is different. A shifting of routine.   
They’ve never planned to go to Ninos before. Not like this. Maybe it’s the word hanging between them, heavy with association and expectation – date.  
Maybe it’s the suggestion that it will lead to something more than hungry kisses and eyes filled with longing.   
Maybe it’s that this is too close to tradition, too close to normality.   
“What do you losers want?” Blue says, interrupting the quiet, sharp and bright as a knife. She doesn’t mean to be so… loud. Adam knows. But he is on edge, and Blue’s words grate. Blue glances at the pair of them, the slightly smarter than usual clothes, the clean hands, the conspicuous absence of homework and Gansey and chaos.   
“Ah. A date. Well, avoid the garlic bread.”   
“Garlic is fine if you both eat it,” Ronan comments dryly, and Adam feels his cheeks flame. The knowledge that Blue knows they are here together, that they have made an effort for no reason other than each other, makes him feel hot and uncomfortable.   
Does the whole world know? Can all of Henrietta see it written over his face?   
“I think, midget, that we’ll order takeout,” Ronan says. “Two colas and a pizza – go easy on the cheese. Actually skip it.”   
Adam raises an eyebrow.   
“I think I’m lactose intolerant.”   
“We have dairy free cheese,” Blue says.   
“Fuck that.”   
“Wise choice.”   
Blue doesn’t ask if there is anything else. She knows Ronan.   
“It’s claustrophobic in here,” Ronan explains. “This was a dumb idea anyway.”   
Adam shrinks inside. Ronan must have seen his discomfort. He doesn’t want Ronan to feel embarrassed about suggesting the date.   
“It’s fine,” he says. “It’s nice.”   
“I hate liars, Parrish. This isn’t us and you know it. Let’s get out of here.”   
They wait for Blue to return with their pizza. Adam is itching to leave, but hunger wins out. Ronan pays without looking at him, casually enough that Adam lets it slide. He’s better at it than Gansey – Ronan is cunning. If you give something quietly enough, it’s easy to take it for granted and not charity.   
They head out into the grubby parking lot. Adam has never stood in a nice parking lot. Ronan climbs into the car, twisting to put the food on the back seat. Adam slams the door, and they drive.   
The absence of Cabeswater is still new enough to feel odd. Ronan drives out of town, far enough that the pizza will be cold. Adam’s no stranger to leftovers, so he doesn’t worry.   
Ronan parks at the side of a road – little more than a track, really, winding up into the small mountains. Virginia is laid out before them, a washed out patchwork. They sit on the bonnet of the car and eat in silence. Besides the muted view, Ronan is more striking than usual, black and white in a landscape of earth tones. Adam glances at him, glances away.   
But he can look now, if he wants.   
Ronan catches his eyes, swallows the last bite of his food. He washes it down with cola, now tepid from the heat of the car. Adam reaches out his hand, catches Ronan’s pinky with his own. He feels like a child, stepping into unchartered territory.   
No one is watching them, and the world belongs to their dreams.   
“What do you hope for, Parrish?” Ronan asks. That’s what people do on dates. They talk, get to know one another. Adam doesn’t know the specifics of Ronan Lynch, at least not many of them, but he knows the soul of him, the raw feel of his energy and the rhythm of his heart, the sharp edges of his humour and pain, and the softness of his affection.   
“I hope for something more,” Adam says, “Than this barren state.”   
“I hope for something less than the chaos of the world,” Ronan murmurs.   
That is where they are different. One boy who has seen too much, too many strange horrors from afar, a struggle to retreat from, and another who has seen too little, a prison to escape from.   
Maybe Ronan can turn the cadence of Henrietta to a rhythm a little closer to his heartbeat, a little closer to a home.   
Ronan grips his hand tight, urgent all of a sudden.   
“Don’t leave me, Parrish. Don’t fuck off into the world and leave me with the cows and Opal.”   
“You know I’m leaving, Ronan. But I said I’d be back.”   
“You’d better. And you’d better tell everyone what a hot farmer you have for a boyfriend.”   
“Can’t I say you’re a street racer instead?”   
Ronan smirks. “Can’t I be both?”   
“You can be anything,” Adam replies.   
“Then I’ll be yours.”   
The words should be cheesy, but Ronan speaks with a simple honesty that makes Adam believe them.   
They kiss, two silhouettes on the top of a hill as old as the earth, clinging onto the crossroads between past and future, tipping the balance forward into something new.   
It’s not a conventional first date, but it’s theirs.


End file.
